


Do You Love Me Still?

by 40buckys



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Fluff and Angst, Gay Bucky Barnes, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Marvel Universe, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-05-16 21:50:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19326802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/40buckys/pseuds/40buckys
Summary: In 1943 Bucky Barnes leaves for Europe and Steve Rogers becomes Captain America.In 1944 Bucky Barnes comes back and finds something out that he wish he hadn't.In 1945 Steve Rogers crashes into the arctic and Bucky Barnes is presumed dead.In 2011 Steve Rogers wakes up, and in 2015 he finds out the truth.





	1. Chapter 1: I Had All Of You

**Author's Note:**

> wow i need to write more !
> 
> this fic was inspired by a lot of things, but mostly the fact that i'm so in love with these boys and i needed to write for them again.
> 
> the title of this fic is from the song "do you love me still?" by the kooks, and chapter titles are from the song "the night we met" by lord huron.
> 
> some of the information/context given in this fic is canon, but a lot of it isn't. so if you're trying to find out actual information about characters, this is not the place lol

_June 1943_

“Steve, you know I have to go.” 

Bucky’s raspy morning voice echoes through the bedroom, despite the size and the amount of furniture. A twin bed lies against a red brick wall with a window, sunlight beaming through. Bucky Barnes, age 26, lays with arms around his best friend, Steve Rogers, age 24. The two had always been inseparable, and considering the circumstances, Steve wasn’t sure he would ever be able to let go of the arms wrapped around him. 

“Mmm… five more minutes, Buck.”

“Steve.”

Letting out a groan, Bucky pries Steve’s small arms off and gets out of bed. The blonde resists shooting his puppy dog eyes at Bucky, knowing why he really does need to leave. He looks over to the clock that reads _5:25 am_ , and thinks to himself, _shit_. Bucky had to be out the door in at least five minutes if he wanted any chance of living. 

Bucky and Steve had always slept in the same bed. They never thought anything of it, and neither did their parents, until one night when the two were on their way to Steve’s apartment and got a beating by these two assholes Bucky had met in training. They had gone back together a few times before then, but they never ran into anyone. Both men knew homosexuality was illegal but didn’t realize it meant they couldn’t be going to Steve’s apartment together at night without some kind of consequence. So, after that night, they had to start sneaking around. Bucky would wait until Steve got home at night, and make his way over when no one was out. And in the morning, he would get up before 5:30 and head out before everyone in the neighborhood woke up. Usually, this wasn’t a problem, _Bucky always gets up by at least 5_ , but this time, he wasn’t sure how he’d say goodbye to his best friend before he leaves for war, in a span of five minutes. 

Bucky threw his pair of slacks on from yesterday over his boxers and scurried around the tiny apartment for his boots. Finally finding them hidden underneath Steve’s couch, he slipped them on, making his way back into Steve’s bedroom.

“Stevie, I’m real sorry to leave like this.”

Half asleep, Steve manages to say back, “It’s okay, Buck. I’ll see you again soon.”

Steve’s last sentence formed tears in Bucky’s eyes, but in fear of embarrassing himself, he pushed them to the side. He had no idea whether he was going to see Steve again, and he found it hard to accept that _this_ was their goodbye. 

“Yeah, Stevie. I’ll see you.” He couldn’t find it in himself to lie and add soon, he hated lying, especially to Steve. The last time he truly lied was to his mother in 1928 when he told her he wanted soda instead of water in front of his friends because _in order to be cool you had to order soda_ , and complained when the carbonation hurt his mouth. She laughed in response, Winnifred Barnes had taught him better than that. 

He kissed Steve’s forehead, _for what might be the last time_ , Bucky thought, and made his way out. Bucky stopped at the doorway to look back at him, seeing that he already fell back asleep. He took in the details of Steve as he slept, his face squished against his arm, his small body within a small bed. He had to practically drag his own self out the door, not wanting to look away. On his walk back, all Bucky could think about was that boy from Brooklyn, and how he didn’t get to say a proper goodbye. If he died tomorrow, he wouldn’t get to live with the fact that he never told Steve he loved him. He would be gone, and Steve would have to live, knowing that they never got a proper goodbye. _Steve_ would have to deal with it, and Bucky would be buried into the ground, not ever having to grieve. _He_ would get that privilege. And it made Bucky feel like shit. 

Bucky’s goodbyes had really only been extended to Steve and a couple of his close friends. His parents had died when he was 17 and he had been separated from his sister, Rebecca, when she was shipped off to boarding school. It was one of the worst days of his life, and it’s days like this that the memories come back to him. He had just lost both of his parents, and he was trying to deal with the loss while also freaking out over how he would protect his sister while not knowing where they were going to be placed. Being minors, they had been staying with their father’s friend while figuring out where the children would be situated when they heard a knock on the door. Officers had come to take Rebecca away to boarding school, and Bucky had hid her in the closet in the guest room. Next thing he knew he was being held back by officers as his sister walked out the door, and his voice was shot the next day from screaming so much to get her back. He spent the majority of the next day in Steve’s house crying into his arms, begging _please someone, anyone bring her back, please bring her back_.

\-------------------------------------

About an hour after Bucky had left Steve awoke, not knowing how to feel about the empty side of the bed next to him. _So badly_ he wanted to feel Bucky’s arms around him, and be taken care of. But he knew last night would be the last time for months, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with that. Purposely ignoring the fact that there is a big possibility that was the last time he would ever see Bucky, he got out of bed with a smile, picturing the next time he’ll see Bucky. 

His fantasy was interrupted with a knock on the door. It was only 6:30 am, he wasn’t sure what anyone would want of him at this time in the morning. Reluctant, he made his way to the door, hearing it creak open. 

“Steven Rogers?” said a man dressed in military uniform. He wore a large brown coat over a light brown dress shirt and a brown tie. With light brown slacks and chunky boots, he was clearly at least a foot taller than Steve.

“I-uh-y-yes, yes that’s me, sir.”

“I’m gonna need you to come with me.”

_November 20th, 1943_

Steve is sitting on his couch reading over a file for a mission when he hears the first knock on his door. Usually, Steve takes knocks on his door as danger, so his head shoots to the left and is reluctant to stand up. When the second knock comes around, he decides to stand up, considering nothing bad has happened yet. He grabs his shield and slowly makes his way towards the door when he hears a third knock. Standing next to the door, out of the guest’s sight, he quietly unlocks the door, saying “come in,” prompting the sound of a squeaky door opening. 

“Hello?”

The sound of Bucky Barnes’s voice is heard behind the door. The only thing Steve can think is, _what the fuck_. Bucky wasn’t supposed to be back until at least a _week_ after Christmas, and that’s if he was lucky. Steve tried his best to control his breathing and went through all the options in his head, but he could only come out with two. Either he was hallucinating and a man waiting to kill him was behind his door but he was imagining Bucky’s voice _because he just wanted to be back in his arms again_ , he decided that was the most likely option. The second option, it really was Bucky. He had somehow got out early and was able to celebrate the holidays with Steve. Though he didn’t put much hope into that thought because of how unlikely it seemed. But when he heard a quiet meow and a very light, very familiar chuckle, he started to doubt his own mind. 

“Hey there, buddy. Wow, I didn’t think Steve would ever get a cat, I thought he was all-”

The next thing he knows, blue eyes and trimmed brown hair are looking back at him. 

“Allergic.”

“Holy shit, Bucky, it-it really is you. Holy shit.” Steve’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of his best friend. He was dressed in what looked like the same clothes as the man who came to his house in June. His eyes still sparkled and his lips were still as pink as they were when he left. He was still Bucky, the same Bucky he knew five months ago. And he wasn’t sure he could say the same about himself.

“Woah, hey Steve.” 

“Bucky, I-I thought you wouldn’t be back until January.”

“And I thought you were smaller. Guess we’re both in for a surprise today.” Bucky lets out a laugh with this and makes his way over to Steve. 

“Can I hug ya?”

Steve rolls his eyes with a smile, drops his shield, and puts his arms around the brunet. The hug is returned and Bucky takes in the outline of Steve’s new body. The large muscles around him, a widened torso, the new height, it was all gonna take a while for Bucky to get used to. But he could manage. 

“I really missed you, Buck,” Steve’s speech is muffled into Bucky’s neck as he holds him tighter, not knowing if he would ever be able to let him go again. 

“I missed you too, you big sap.”

The hug lasts a few more minutes until Bucky decides to pull back, wanting to stay like that forever, but knowing the reality. 

“So, how long you been like this?”

“Like what?” Steve jokes, prompting a whack on the chest. He chuckles, and, despite everything going through his mind, finds a way to respond.

“The night you left, actually. A man came to my door, dressed like how you are now, actually, told me he needed me to come with him or something, and next thing I knew I was whisked off to a lab and I was nearly a foot taller and 145 pounds heavier. Crazy how that works, huh?”

“Wow, I-uh. I’m not sure what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m just really glad to see you so soon… speaking of that, you never answered my question. I thought you weren’t coming back until January?” In between the time of Bucky pulling back from the hug and Steve’s question, their hands became intertwined, and they both squeezed into it.

“Not really a question, Stevie. Let’s sit down and have a drink, and we can chat. Like the old days.”

Bucky releases his hand and walks over to Steve’s fridge, and then to his cabinet. He pulls out two glasses and doesn’t expect to hear the next thing Steve says.

“Oh, Buck, I-uh, I can’t-” His voice is cut off by his thoughts, unsure of what to say.

“The serum they put in me, it, uh, made my body metabolism so fast that any alcohol I consume just-” He’s met with Bucky’s furrowed brow, and decides to just skip to the point.

“I can’t get drunk, is what I’m saying.”

“Shit, well, that sucks. But more for me.” He puts away the second glass he had gotten and smiles.

“A lot has happened since June, huh?”

“Yeah, Buck. There’s a lot we gotta tell each other.”

“We better get started, then.”

_November 25th, 1943_

The past few days were spent full of laughter, late nights, and hours of rough sketches. Bucky never left Steve’s apartment for the five days they had and, thankfully, no one ever came to visit Steve, so the sneaking out wasn’t a problem anymore. Instead, Bucky would spend 5 am sitting in Steve’s bed however Steve wanted him, Steve would get out his sketchbook, and he would draw for hours. Steve understood that sitting there would get boring at some point, but Bucky never complained. He took in the different faces of Steve as he drew. How his eyebrows furrowed when he was concentrating, how his hands got covered with charcoal, how he would accidentally smear his face with a grey mark when he itched his cheek but he ignored it, his smile when he would look up at Bucky and he thought, _this is how I want to spend the rest of my life. With him_. 

Thanksgiving rolled around and knowing Bucky had to leave the next day, the two made the most of the night. Bucky was able to either spend one holiday with Steve or come a week after Christmas. He ignored the latter and decided to come for Thanksgiving, but hadn’t completely taken into account how hard it would be to say goodbye. But Bucky decided that it would be ignored for now, and he would enjoy the time he still had with Steve.

Neither of the two men had ever been too good at cooking, but Steve had always been a few steps ahead of Bucky on that front. Growing up with a terrible immune system, Sarah Rogers had made sure to teach Steve how to cook for himself, afraid that she would be gone too soon and he would never learn how to. Sure, he only learned a few things and he really was never too good at remembering what he was taught, but he tried his best. 

He ran out to the door, grabbing potatoes, carrots, and whatever else he thought he was capable of making with the little knowledge he had, and spent the day cooking for himself and Bucky. Bucky would help when he could, and when he couldn’t, he sat at the table and watched Steve. He would occasionally catch Bucky’s gaze, and when he did he would quickly look away, leaving Steve to chuckle to himself. By 4 PM food was placed on the table, a small amount, but Bucky didn’t care. Steve sat across from Bucky, and grabbed his hand, promising himself to not let go of it until the next morning. They spent the evening telling stories of the months they lost. Bucky finally found out about Steve’s cat, Steve learned about Bucky’s 5 AM calls, and they both learned about how much they missed each other. And they squeezed each other’s hands, like Steve promised, _never letting go_.

Somehow 5 am approached, and it was time for their dreaded goodbye. They had stayed up all night talking about nothing, and moments of silence looking into each other’s eyes, knowing that the silence was enough. 

“I’m gonna miss you, buddy.” Bucky’s arms wrapped around Steve’s torso, and his chin rested upon the brunet’s head. 

“I know, I’m gonna miss you too. So much.” 

Steve pulled away to take in the features of Bucky’s face, this time being cautious that he might never see him again. For a split second, he thought he saw Bucky’s eyes glance down to his lips, but he pushed the thought away, knowing that if he moved on it, he would never forgive himself. He had always loved Bucky. But he could never tell him. He couldn’t live with himself knowing that he would’ve told him how he felt, gotten nothing but rejection back, then he was sent off to what could be his death, leaving Bucky with the knowledge that he denied his best friend. He knew Bucky would feel guilty, and he wasn’t okay with being the one to make him feel that way. 

“I’m sorry, Steve.” 

“What?”

“I’m just, I’m sorry to leave you. I feel terrible-”

Steve’s hands moved to the back of Bucky’s head, and he held him there.

“Bucky, do you know how much of your fault this _isn’t_? Yeah, I’m gonna miss you like hell. I’m gonna be in pain and it’s gonna hurt you too. But this is _not_ your fault. I swear to you.”

After a few minutes, he felt Bucky’s body shaking against his, and he realized he was crying. He ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair, his other hand on his back, and kept whispering _it’s okay_ and _I’m here, Buck_. He sobbed into Steve’s arms, and Steve held him tighter, never wanting to let go. His tears soaked through Steve’s shirt, and Bucky choked out quiet apologies through sobs, and Steve suddenly remembered the times Bucky would sing _You Are My Sunshine_ to him when he had pneumonia. The words came out soft and muffled, and not as smooth as it did when Bucky sang it, but Bucky didn’t mind.

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray… you’ll never know dear how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away..._

Steve’s voice slowed Bucky’s breathing down and he was able to pull away and look at Steve’s face. Steve wiped the tears off his face, and he smiled into the feeling of his calloused hands. Thanking Steve, he saw the time and grabbed his bag, and turned around in the doorway to look at him again.

“Bye, Steve.”

Steve gave a gentle wave back, watching the door close, and he felt the first tear run down his face.


	2. I had most of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> July 1944 greets Bucky with open arms, with the intent of heartbreak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi all ! i decided to split this chapter into two because i have around 2700 words for this chapter and i didn't want it to be ridiculously longer than the others, so the year of 1944 will be split into two chapters, making the total of this fic five chapters.
> 
> all the love!

_July 4, 1944_

Bucky lifted his hand to knock on Steve’s apartment door, and decided he needed a moment. He was about to tell his best friend since childhood that he was _in love with him_ , there’s not exactly a good way to prepare for something like that. Since he left in November he had been thinking about when he was going to tell him and _how_. It took him a few months, many broken pencils, and a lot of crumpled pieces of paper to finally decide that he would have to tell him in person. Still, even after he made the decision, how does it get any easier? 

Pulling himself together, he took a deep breath and lifted his hand once again, but before he could move it to the door, he felt a gust of air and could hear two people chatting. It took him a few seconds to realize that Steve’s door had opened and he was met face to face with the blond he hadn’t seen in nine months. 

“Oh my God, Bucky.”

“Hey, Stevie.”

Steve files through everything going through his mind when he takes in the fact that Bucky is standing in front of him. He, again, wasn’t sure when the next time he was going to see him would be, and he certainly didn’t expect to see him outside his door on his _birthday_. He had had so many dreams about him which he would never tell Bucky because he knows he would feel guilty about it as if it was _his_ fault for getting _drafted_. 

He would always wake up in the middle of the night in screams, usually waking up his neighbors. The first nightmare is always the worst. He had woken up at 2am in a cold sweat after dreaming of Bucky getting killed right in front of him. He was trapped in some sort of cage while Bucky was getting beaten to death by Nazi soldiers and he wasn’t able to get to him, he was forced to sit there and watch him cry and scream to Steve for help. And he was never able to save him. His eyes shot open as he quickly sat up and heard screaming and realized that it was his screams, he was screaming out for Bucky, _I’m coming, Bucky, wait for me, I’m gonna get to you somehow_. And it turns out that that was only a mild one. Eventually he learned how to deal with them himself and found breathing exercises that helped, but nothing helped as much as Peggy being by his side. Sometimes she was the one who woke him up, starting from a gentle rub on his arm to raising her voice saying _Steve, wake up, darling. Steve. STEVE_. And from that he would nearly jump out of their bed, nothing other than Bucky’s name in a scream coming out of his mouth. He would feel pressure on his back but never knew what it was until he realized Peggy was slowly taking Steve’s sweat soaked shirt off of him, and his breathing began to slow down. She would say _it’s okay, sweetheart, it was just a nightmare, you’re okay_ , and occasionally it would escalade to sobbing into her arms. 

Steve finally collects his thoughts and leans in to hug Bucky and realizes that he forgot how safe and free he felt while he was in his arms. His speech about how much he missed him, Bucky’s response that he missed him too, and that he hopes he’s been taking care of Brooklyn for him. He took in Bucky’s scent of cigarettes and Zizanie cologne, the feeling of his breath and how it made the hairs on his neck stand up, how _he would do anything if it meant he could stay like this forever_ , but the sound of Peggy’s heels on the wood flooring snapped him back into reality and he felt shame for feeling everything that just occurred. 

“Steve, who’s this?” Steve’s head turned as he heard Peggy speak, and reached to put his arm around her waist.

“Oh, sorry, I just-I wasn’t expecting this," Steve starts, then clears his throat," Peggy, this is Bucky. Buck, this is my fiancée, Peggy.”

It’s like Bucky is watching everything in slow motion as he sees Peggy reach her hand out and smile as she speaks. 

“Hi, Bucky. It’s nice to finally meet you, Steve has told me a lot of stories about you.” 

It’s almost as if her voice is muted as he hears it, and his brain is having trouble understanding what she’s saying because all his ears can hear right now is a replay of Steve saying _this is my fiancée, Peggy_. He heard it so many times in his head by now that he wasn’t even sure if it was real. _Fiancée?_ Had Steve forgotten about all the time him and Bucky had shared together? Had all the late nights where they stayed up and talked about nothing been completely abandoned? The first time Bucky slept in Steve’s bed meant nothing to Steve anymore. When he had fallen deathly ill and Bucky went to check the temperature of his forehead. When he subconsciously placed his hand on the top of Steve’s head and leaned down to kiss his forehead, then down to his cheek, and his lips grazed the corner of Steve’s mouth before pulling away and moving to leave the room, and Steve had grabbed his hand and asked him to stay, because Steve didn’t care how disgusting people made it out to be and eventually neither did Bucky, they only cared about each other and how safe they made each other feel. 

He had dreamed of the day he could finally be free of judgement and press his lips to Steve’s, and it made him feel like they could rule the world together without anyone telling them no. Calloused fingers would intertwine in public, the words _I love you_ could be said nonchalantly in front of all of their friends. They could climb to the roof of Steve’s apartment building in the stiff Brooklyn air and shout as loud at the top of their lungs about how in love they were and not give a damn if they woke anyone up because _they were the only two people in the world_. But _no_ , Bucky thought, _this wasn’t their life_ , and he knew that it certainly wasn’t how Steve imagined it. Bucky laughed to himself in his head from how _stupid_ he was to think that their time together meant anything to Steve, and even considering the fact that maybe, just maybe Steve felt the same way that Bucky did. Of course one day he was going to fall in love with a woman and forget about Bucky, and he would have to accept the fact that _Steve was never going to love him back_ ; but he didn’t know how unprepared he was for when that day actually became a reality. 

Bucky was forced to swallow his feelings once again and choked out a smile and a gentle, “It’s nice to meet you too, Peggy.”

Peggy returns Bucky’s reply with a smile, and Bucky opens his mouth to continue speaking, but isn’t completely sure what he’s about to say, so he smiles back.

“How have you been, Buck?” 

“Ah, you know, not bad for the end of the world.” Bucky says this with a smirk which prompts a chuckle from Steve.

“We really miss you back home.”

“Thanks, Stevie.”

Steve looks at him for a few seconds before saying, “Hey, we were about to head out for dinner to celebrate my birthday, you wanna tag along?”

 _Swallow your feelings, Bucky._

“I-”

 _C’mon, you idiot._

“I’m actually not feelin’ too good, plane ride was pretty bumpy. Maybe we can have a late celebration tomorrow?”

_God damn it._

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine. Sorry you’re not feeling well, pal. We’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? We got a lot to catch up on.”

_I love you._

“Yeah, Stevie. I’ll see you.”

Steve gives him a slight nod before locking the door behind him. Peggy’s red lipstick turns into a smile and he watches Steve’s arm rub up and down her back as they walk away. He waits until they’re out of sight before listening to the sound of his boots fall heavy onto the cracked sidewalk as he begins to knock on the doors of his old friends to find a place to stay. He dreaded the long week he had ahead of him when he began to feel the humidity of a July in Brooklyn on his skin and thought about how Steve used to be the only one in their neighborhood to get sick during the summer, but no, he can’t think about Steve anymore. He was _happy_ now with _someone else_. 

Bucky's next 30 minutes were spent knocking on doors, finding out which of his old friends had died in combat and which of them just couldn’t take it anymore, and right as he was about to give up and sleep on the street a door opened and he was met with an old face.

“Woah, James Barnes?”

It took him a few seconds before realizing who was talking to him, and he was finally able to choke out a small, “Mr. Morita?”

“I see you still have your accent, son.” He realized the _mister_ came out more like _mista_ , and he smiled at the observation. 

“Is, uh, is Jim here?”

He recognized the frown on the man’s face before quickly apologizing, only to have it waved away.

“It’s okay, James. Can I ask why you’re here?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, sir,” Bucky began, trying to come up with something other than the truth, “I-uh, I was using some of the days of leave I have to visit Steve for his birthday, but I’m really not feeling too great so I had to find somewhere else to stay.”

“Why don’t you come in?”

\-------------------------------------

After a few hours and more glasses of Brandy than he’d like to admit, he had learned many things about the life of Jim Morita, from beginning to end. He learned that Jim had always been a bit insecure but he never liked to show it, how he was severely sarcastic but he always made sure it was with good intentions, how his father knew about his repressed sexuality. He never expected to hear the last one or expect his father to even think about it, but after listening, he felt that he knew almost everything about him that he could pretty much assume he had a very loving family. 

It was very nice to hear stories about someone he never quite got to know. Bucky had met Jim when they were both assigned in the 107th Infantry Regiment and became friends. And again, he didn’t know much about the man, but there was an unspoken consensus that they had each other’s backs. They had a strong friendship, but eventually got separated, and Bucky never heard about or from him again. He didn’t really think much about it when he first found out he died not more than an hour ago, but after hearing about his life and having his dad be so kind to him and offer the guest room and _no I can’t be even more inconvenient to someone_ then Jim’s father assuring him he was welcome then eventually giving up the fight and taking the guest room, he was left to his own thoughts. And considering he has been alone but not alone in a big room with only his mind, it was all a bit overwhelming, and he didn’t realize he had been sobbing into his knees on the floor until his slacks were nearly soaked. 

He wishes he could say he didn’t know why he was crying so much, he just wanted to have a good cry and never think about it again. But the truth is that he was thinking a lot about Jim and all the stories he just heard. He was thinking about how similar him and Jim were and how he never realized it. _Jim had always been a little insecure but he never liked to show it_ , he thought about the amount of times Steve had tried to take a picture of him with his new camera that he spent months saving up on, and how he would say no because he didn’t like looking at himself all that much. How Jim’s father told him that he had always been sarcastic but it was always with good intentions, he thought about all the times he made fun of Steve’s size and how he was always offended but it was really because he was so _god damned cute_. How Jim had always repressed his sexuality because if he didn’t he would most likely be killed, and he thought about how in love he is with Steve. Since the moment he met him he knew, and he was in a lot of trouble. But he put the part of him that was seen as disgusting in the back of his mind and never told anyone, because how could he? How was he supposed to reveal who he was without being sent to jail? The answer is he _couldn’t_ , so, just like Jim, he kept it repressed and in a box. 

All of this brought Bucky to think about the one difference they had: their families. Jim had passed with a loving family; his mother was on a business trip for the weekend for her job as a nurse _along with her ranking as one of the top five nurses in the whole of New York_ , his father was an incredibly successful businessman, and a brother who had moved up to Colorado to become a nurse like his mother. They had all loved and supported Jim throughout his life, were supportive of his joining the army, always made sure to stay in contact. He was _loved_ and he died knowing that he was. 

And Bucky? His parents were long gone, he had no idea in hell where his sister was, and no contact with any relatives that might still be alive. When he was drafted, the only thing he could think of was how to get out of it. Maybe he could run away, change his identity, move to a new country, and no one would ever find him. He would have a new life, and for a while the idea seemed plausible, if the authorities didn’t exist. He _knew_ this would never be a reality or even something he could slightly consider. So his only other option was suicide. He would find some way to execute it, and he would be dead and gone and never have to deal with his pain ever again. Of course, there was something stopping him. _Steve_.

At the time, he knew there was no way he could leave him. He was getting sick all the time with only Bucky to take care of him after Steve’s mom died, and he was constantly worried. Always with him whenever he was able to be, always giving him the necessary medicine, always checking the temperature of his forehead. There was no way he was going to leave and let Steve die of pneumonia or getting beaten up by boys who were much bigger than him. So he didn’t. He stayed alive for Steve, and the knowledge that he could take care of Steve whenever he got back. 

But now he knew he had nothing. He had always said to Steve, _even when I had nothing I had you_. He had put his heart and soul into Steve, he had promised to care for him until his last breath, he wanted nothing but him. And now he finally knows that Steve doesn’t and _will never_ feel the same way. He truly had nothing. He had always put on a tough front and it was usually true, but for the first time in a while, he was truly terrified.

The sobs turned into silent screams while his pillow slowly became drenched with his tears and he tried to reach out for any source of comfort, and was met with nothing. No one was coming to save him, and if he died, no one would be there to celebrate his life or legacy. _No one_.


	3. i had most of you (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky continues the year of 1944 with love that he believes is not reciprocated.

_July 9th, 1944_

Throughout the following days, until Bucky departs again, he ends up spending many hours with his newly engaged blond-haired best friend and the wearer of an expensive engagement ring. He hears stories upon stories of how they first met, when they got engaged, how Steve had never seen Peggy cry up until that night. But none about when they knew they were falling in love. None that concentrated on how they felt about each other. Just _facts_ about their relationship, when events occurred, where they occurred, never _feelings_. And while it confused Bucky, he chose to ignore it because Steve was _happy_ , and that’s all Bucky ever wanted for him. 

The night before Bucky left he spent the evening drinking and laughing with the pair. He exited the living room to grab himself another drink when he heard Peggy’s voice and nothing back, understanding that she must have been on the phone. 

“Hello?”

Bucky reaches the counter.

“Yes, this is she.”

He opens the lid to pour himself another drink. 

“Well, what is it?”

He lifts the bottle, only to lower it back down when he hears the disturbance in Peggy’s next utterance.

“Oh my God.”

He startles when he hears the sound of glass breaking against the wooden floor.

A shriek comes from the living room, and Peggy slamming the phone down is next. Steve’s footsteps follow the slam and he thinks he hears Peggy crying, although the sound is muffled through the cracked Brooklyn brick walls. 

“Peggy, honey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Bucky assumes Steve is hugging Peggy at this point and makes for the door before stopping in his tracks, wanting to write a note explaining the reason for his absence. He grabs a napkin from the holder and moves his head to find a pen, but his stomach drops when he hears Steve’s voice.

“ _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey…_ ”

His hand curls into a fist as he crumples up the napkin he had been holding and threw it on the ground. Tears threatened his eyes as he stood in his Steve covered tracks and he immediately felt broken. And the second he realized he had been staring at the wall he ran out the door, letting it slam behind him.

\-------------------------------------

It felt like he had been running for hours. He had no idea where he was going, didn’t notice the sweat that had been running down his back, paid no attention to his lack of breath, but the one thing he couldn’t stop thinking about was Steve. 

_Steve_. The one who once made him feel like home. The one who he had been fighting for. The one he felt he could do anything for as long as it meant he was happy. The one who made him feel like he knew nothing except the blonde hair that filled his hands. 

And, eventually, the one who would leave. Like everyone else in his life had. 

Bucky’s loss of breath caught up to him and his limp body fell against the walls of an old, abandoned building. He could feel the dirt against the fabric stuck to the back of his thighs. His head fell to his hands as hot tears drenched the scarred skin below his eyes and he could feel his whole body shaking. He was forced to come to the realization that Steve had fallen out of his grasp. He had no one left anymore. 

The only thing he could play in his head was the sound of Steve singing. But not to him. He couldn’t stop hearing the noise of Steve singing what had once been their song to the woman he loved now. The one who had his heart. _The one who wasn’t Bucky_.

Night had fallen as Bucky had sat there, but he had no clue of an idea as to what time it was. He figures he should start walking back to Mr. Morita’s house, which had been a few doors down from Steve’s, so he drags himself back onto his feet and tries to remember which way he came from, but it wasn’t much help as Bucky never had the best memory. He thinks he vaguely remembers only running straight, not taking a single turn, so he tries his best to make his way. 

When he steps onto the stairs that paved their way to the front door, he doubted himself. He was worried about inconveniencing the man if he were to wake him up by knocking, but before he could dwell on that thought, he heard the creak of a door.

“Oh, James! It’s nearly 2 in the morning, I was getting worried, boy. I was just about to get in my car and look for you, but here you are.”

Bucky’s eyes widen at the speech as he manages to make out, “W-worried? About me?”

“Yes! It’s late, kid, and you’d always come back by at least 12.” Apparently, Mr. Morita had noticed Bucky’s figure shaking as he said, “Are you alright? Come on, let’s get inside.”

Before he could answer he was walking inside as the door behind him closed and he wasn’t fully aware of what was happening around him, but he managed to push out a few words.

“I, uh, I’m sorry for m-making you worry, mister. I, uh, I-”

He was cut off by the sound of Mr. Morita shushing him. “James, boy, it’s alright. Take it easy. You don’t have to apologize.”

“No, I do, Mr. Morita, I just, I got lost, I d-didn’t know where I was, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry, I’m-” His voice was cracking at this point, and he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, then realized he was being pulled into a hug. 

Bucky never liked to show his feelings towards people he hadn’t known for a while. Hell, it had taken months for Bucky to cry in front of Steve. But having a sense of comfort and warmth against him made him want to fall apart, and it was proving to be difficult to compose himself. He let himself break and he sang a symphony of sobs onto Mr. Morita’s shoulder. It was all a mix of many emotions, but the main being fear. He had always pushed it away, made sure it never took over him. He was always brave, always stood up, never let himself back down, never unraveled. But this time he couldn’t help it. The only person who meant something to him anymore, the one person who he had left, he no longer had. He didn’t know anything or anyone now, and it scared the shit out of him. 

\-------------------------------------

_December 23rd, 1944_

The morning Bucky left in July was one without a word. Bucky never called, and Steve never walked over to say goodbye. Bucky waited until the last possible second before leaving for the airport, hoping that he would show up, but Steve never did. 

He and Mr. Morita had said their goodbyes and shared another hug, Bucky thanking him for his hospitality and the father assuring him that it was no issue and he is welcome to stay with him when he comes back next. Bucky returned his offer with a smile, grabbed his bags, and made his way to Europe. 

Throughout the six months before Christmas, Bucky had not received a single letter from Steve. It had been almost seven weeks since he was back in Europe when he realized Steve hadn’t reached out to him since the 9th of July. And at first, he didn’t think much of it, maybe his letters weren’t getting through the mail. But when it got close to the end of September and Bucky still hadn’t received any mail, he grew angry. He didn’t know why the hell Steve wasn’t writing to him like he always did, but he figured any reason wouldn’t have been a good enough reason. They were _best friends_ , Steve should write to his best friend.

Bucky never wrote to him either. After weeks and weeks of _nothing_ , he chose to ignore him. 

Alas, ignoring refused to cooperate. All he could think about was Steve, and eventually the anger grew to frustration, and frustration grew into sadness. He felt like he had been abandoned as the winter approached. He didn’t know where Steve was, didn’t know how he was doing, didn’t know if he still ate his bagels lightly toasted with only a little butter, didn’t know if his favorite song was still _It’s Been a Long, Long Time_. And the worst of all, he didn’t know if Steve still even thought about Bucky. 

He wanted to doubt his thoughts, but they wouldn’t stop invading his head. He knew that Steve no longer cared about him, knew that he probably never thought about Bucky anymore. Bucky was just someone that made him happy for a while but someone he would eventually leave once he found something else to satisfy him. Steve never really cared about Bucky, he was sure of it. And it broke his heart to think it. He pictured Steve going about his days never giving a second to think about Bucky and if he was okay. He pictured Steve kissing Peggy when she got home from work every night, them sitting at the dining room table together, talking about their days. What Bucky always wanted to do with Steve. But of course, Steve never loved him, and that could never happen for them. 

So, Christmas rolled around, and Bucky didn’t go home. He didn’t want to disappoint Steve by showing up at his doorstep, didn’t want Steve to be upset. He had accepted that Steve no longer cared about him. That he had nothing to live for anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi all i'm so sorry it took me so long to update im a huge mess and life is hard

**Author's Note:**

> thank u all for reading, please leave comments they help me keep going w my stories and i love reading them 
> 
> thank you [alex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterneds/) for editing and helping me out with this :')
> 
> follow me ! my tumblr is [@vex-ahhlia](https://vex-ahhlia.tumblr.com/) n my twitter is [@barnesfjlms](https://twitter.com/barnesfjlms/)


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